


Temptation

by Lilibet



Series: October 2020 prompts [18]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Idiots in Love, Jinnobi Challenge 2020, M/M, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27080773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilibet/pseuds/Lilibet
Summary: The strobe lights flickering over the dancefloor illuminate Obi-Wan, setting his hair alight as though it’s on fire and drawing Qui-Gon’s gaze like a moth to flame. He moves flawlessly, hips never missing a beat as they roll sensuously with the rhythm of the music.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: October 2020 prompts [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949062
Comments: 15
Kudos: 57





	Temptation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeaRex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaRex/gifts), [kyber-erso (aoraki)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoraki/gifts).



> For the flufftober day 18 prompt "things left unsaid". For TeaRex who gave me the idea ;)

The beat of the music thumps in Qui-Gon’s ears, but it’s his heart that he can hear the clearest. It thumps in his chest; a rabbiting beat he can’t calm. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat but his mouth is as dry as a desert, and he feels his throat click when he swallows.

The strobe lights flickering over the dancefloor illuminate Obi-Wan, setting his hair alight as though it’s on fire and drawing Qui-Gon’s gaze like a moth to flame. He moves flawlessly, hips never missing a beat as they sensuously roll with the rhythm of the music.

Qui-Gon looks away, to the other patrons at the bar where he’s stood, down into the untouched drink in his hand, but inevitably it finds its way back to Obi-Wan. His own apprentice, _no, not anymore_ , temping him far more than he could ever realise.

Their eyes lock through the crowd, the din of the music fading into insignificance and he watches with rapt attention as Obi-Wan slips between the writhing bodies on the dancefloor as naturally as a fish through water.

Qui-Gon hastily takes a gulp of his drink, eyes watering as he holds back a cough when the alcohol burns down his throat. It does nothing to quench his thirst. Only one thing will do that, and it’s standing right in front of him with eyes bright with life as they bore into his own.

Obi-Wan signals the bartender and leans over Qui-Gon’s shoulder to make his order. His hair tickles Qui-Gon’s ear and he supresses a shiver. When Obi-Wan pulls back he keeps his hand on Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

“Drink?”

He doesn’t trust his voice so he gestures to the glass in his hand.

Obi-Wan laughs and Qui-Gon stares at the dimple on his cheek, an irresistible urge to lick it sliding through him. Obi-Wan leans forward to speak into his ear.

“You’ve hardly touched it all night. Here, I’ll get you what I’m having.”

Obi-Wan’s lips brush against his ear and Qui-Gon holds back a moan. The huskiness of Obi-Wan’s voice, the breath drifting over his skin, his proximity to Qui-Gon where he’s practically plastered to half his body, it all sends shudders rippling through him and causes goosebumps to erupt on his arms. He shifts to try and relieve the pressure of the growing situation in his pants.

He feels like a teenager again, getting hard from someone’s body against his and their voice in his ear. Obi-Wan just has that effect on people.

Obi-Wan must’ve ordered while Qui-Gon was busy not melting into a puddle of want on the floor, because when he turns around there’s a platter of two shots, something that looks like salt, and pieces of lime in front of them.

He raises an eyebrow at Obi-Wan, who just grins at him.

“Here, like this.”

Qui-Gon watches as Obi-Wan licks the back of his hand and sprinkles on some of the salt. He gives Qui-Gon a wink and then downs the shot of clear liquid, immediately licking the salt off his hand and then biting into the lime.

His eyes squeeze shut, and he grimaces and shakes his head as he swallows. Qui-Gon’s gaze is drawn to the bob of his throat, and to the beads of sweat that are dripping down the glistening skin. When he raises his eyes back to Obi-Wan, he’s smirking at him as though he knew exactly what Qui-Gon is thinking.

Qui-Gon suppresses a blush, looks to the platter, then back to Obi-Wan’s neck, and up to his face. Obi-Wan’s looking at him expectantly, Qui-Gon’s favourite impish expression curling at the edges of his smirk. There’s a look in his eye; hope, hiding behind a carefully crafted wall of confidence. Qui-Gon sees it anyway. He sees everything about Obi-Wan.

He raises his chin and places his drink down. He licks the back of his hand, copying Obi-Wan’s actions. Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan leans an elbow on the bar, and a daring idea flickers into his mind. The thought of it nearly makes him groan aloud and he pauses in the middle of sprinkling the salt onto his hand.

He knows it’s a bad idea, terrible actually. Will most likely backfire spectacularly. But then again, he doubts he’ll ever get a chance like this again. He brushes the salt off his hand and before Obi-Wan can even open his mouth to ask what he’s doing, he downs the shot and crowds Obi-Wan back into the bar, leaning down to lick the sweat off Obi-Wan’s neck.

He only intends to lick, but once he tastes Obi-Wan’s skin, feels the shocked moan vibrate in Obi-Wan’s throat, he finds he can’t pull back. He finds he doesn’t want to. And then Obi-Wan’s hand is in his hair, holding him to his neck as he sucks and bites at the delicate skin, marking it up with an irrational need to possess him, to let everyone know that he is Qui-Gon’s and no one else’s.

When he pulls back, satisfied with the red and purple mark blooming starkly against the paleness of Obi-Wan’s skin, Qui-Gon reaches for the lime and bites into it, never breaking eye contact with Obi-Wan. The sourness is in delicious contrast to the saltiness of his skin, and the dazed, heavy-lidded gaze Obi-Wan is watching him with as he pants against the bar sends a smug satisfaction running through Qui-Gon’s veins. He did that to Obi-Wan. _Him and no one else_.

They watch each other, unsure about what happens next. Qui-Gon knows what _he_ wants. He wants to take Obi-Wan back to his quarters and lay him out on the bed, hold him down and lick the sweat from his body as he writhes on top of the sheets. He wants to hear his voice as he moans under Qui-Gon’s mouth, unfettered by the loud music of the bar.

That’s what he wants. But what does Obi-Wan want?

Qui-Gon’s made the first move, albeit a more daring one than he ever expected himself to make, so it’s up to Obi-Wan now. If he doesn’t want anything more with Qui-Gon, he will happily step back and pretend this night never happened. It will pain him to do so, but he cares about Obi-Wan’s happiness far more than he cares about his presence in his bed.

Obi-Wan will always have a place in Qui-Gon’s heart, that will never change.

The question is answered when Obi-Wan mutters a quiet _fuck_ under his breath and yanks Qui-Gon’s lips to his by hair. He groans at the pain, feeling it zing down his spine to his cock and morph into delicious pleasure. Then he groans at the feeling of Obi-Wan’s lips against his, the softness of them as they open to Qui-Gon’s tongue. He licks inside his mouth, tasting the shot and salt and lime, delving deeper to find the unique taste that is Obi-Wan.

Hands land on his hips, pulling him closer until his thigh slides between Obi-Wan’s splayed legs. He feels Obi-Wan’s cock, as hard as his own now pressed to Obi-Wan’s hip, against his leg and starts grinding them together.

Obi-Wan moans and pants into his mouth. Qui-Gon feels it more than he hears it and the possessive urge to hear it where no one else can overtakes him, and he pulls back. Obi-Wan looks like temptation personified, hair dishevelled and cheeks flush as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes are full of a want Qui-Gon never knew he possessed, and he tamps down the urge to bend Obi-Wan over the bar and take him right here and now. It’s something he knows he’d never actually do, but the image Obi-Wan makes in front of him has awakened something fierce in Qui-Gon he never knew he had.

They stare at each other, a conversation happening simply through looks alone. Something they’d perfected in their many years together. No words are said. They don’t need to be.

They leave the bar together, hand in hand. They will try to get back to the temple as fast as possible, but Obi-Wan’s lips will call to Qui-Gon and he won’t be able to resist, periodically pressing Obi-Wan against walls to take drugging kisses he finds he can’t get enough of. But eventually they’ll find their way back to Qui-Gon’s quarters, where he will finally hear Obi-Wan’s moans as he takes him apart in his bed. Where Obi-Wan will also take _him_ apart too. They will come together all night, again and again, pressing love and desire and want into each other’s skin.

And when they wake in the morning, the rising sun will slant over Obi-Wan’s face, setting his hair alight, and he will smile sleepily at Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon will feel breathless because Obi-Wan is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

And still, no words will be said.


End file.
